


In the shade of Notre Dame

by Maulindath



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Insert, Swearing, That went dark fast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-17 16:59:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16520402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maulindath/pseuds/Maulindath
Summary: I never expected to be reborn. I never thought I would become part of a story. And yet, here I was. Gasping for breath, my hand clenched around a few red strands of hair, while fire burned through me and tears stung my eyes. I did not want to die. I did not want to become a vampire.It was all her fault. It was Bella's fault.And in that moment, I hated my twin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. It looks like I'm trying my hand at fanfiction. Oh boy, are we in for a ride ! I apologize in advance for any mistakes you might find, as I'm not a native speaker of English, and hope you'll enjoy your read !

Pain. Pain wracking my body, fire burning my bones to nothing. I can hear my screams, distant as they are, in the same way that I can taste the blood in my throat. Which is to say, I can't. It just feels logical. If I'm in so much pain, surely I'm screaming, and crying, and trashing around ? It makes sense. I don't know. I'm not sure. The pain drowns pretty much everything, and I've never cursed my brain more. My so-called intelligence. Congrats, Anna, you're a zebra ! _Whoop-fucking-doo._ Congrats, what a joke. Being different is a pain. I'd know.

I was a zebra Before, too.

It's fun, almost. The pain drowns everything, and it makes it easier to remember. Before. Before I was born Anastasia Sarah Swan (Thanks for the acronym, Mom, it doesn't suck at all !). Back when I was French, and short, and even more of a failure. The Girl That Never Succeeded. That had been me. Born smart, and yet utterly without talent. Given everything to be happy, and yet riddled with anxiety and depression. Desperate to be loved, and yet unable to trust anyone.  
It had been a lonely life. One I had spent lost in books, musics and movies, to try and forget how empty I felt. How much I hated myself. _Failure. Pathetic. Burden. Stupid. Ugly. Waste of space._ The love of my family felt worse than anything, back then. Something I did not deserve. 

Art had been my escape. Music, movies, pottery, books. They had allowed me to flee, to forget myself and become someone else for a few hours.

I still had not expected to end up in one. I had not expected to die, either, looking back. Not the way I had, and not the way I currently am. It's as if, somehow, the pain has managed to climb higher. How I'm not dead or mad yet, I don't know. I'm fairly sure the human mind is not designed to withstand agony for such a long period of time. Surely it's been a few hours now ? I don't know. I can't see the clock from where I am on the floor, and the night outside is no help. I can only hope. That it will stop, or that someone will come and finish the job. A Cullen maybe. Or Dad.

Is he even alive ? Victoria talked of wanting to kill him, too. Or maybe she wanted me to kill him ? I don't know. I think he had a fishing trip ? Gods, I hope he does. I don't want him to find me. It would kill him twice over.

I don't want to die. I want to die. I don't know. At this stage, I only know the pain. It _hurts._

And then it does not. Calm. Quiet, blessed, pain-free silence. It feels like I can finally focus. And then, it all becomes too much. Tiles against my fingers, almost warm, rough and ever so slightly greasy. The wind that runs though the trees, the rain that falls against the windows and runs in the gutters, cascading to the ground. The strident beeping of the phone. The cars outside, the snores of the neighbor's sleeping dog. The hair in my hand. The smell of blood, fear and vomit that permeates the air, along with the smell of cold ginger tea, olive oil, cheese, so many smells. It's dizzying. And finally, I open my eyes, only to close them again. Yeah, fuck that. If I thought we needed to change the light before, it's official now. It's noisy, and loud, and it hurts my eyes. And I'm scared. Because I saw too much. Too clear. Despite my glasses not being on my nose.

Hearing, smell, sight. That's three senses suddenly better, and when I add the pain and the fact that I'm alive despite that bitch breaking my legs and arms and drinking from me... Well. Looks like I am a vampire. A very young, very hungry, very very angry vampire. Go me. I can't even die correctly. And now that I'm not dead, well... I kinda want to stay alive. I'm selfish that way. 

Stop. Think. Close your eyes again _(don't look in the windows, don't look at the blood on the kitchen floor, don't look don't look don't look - white skin, black eyes, perfect face, the scar above my lip and the crook of my nose from when I had broken it gone, not a pimple to be seen, my freckles erased, my teeth perfect despite the failure of the invisalign and I **hate** )_ and take a step. I need to leave. I need to run. I need to keep that red hair in my hand, make like a tree and leave. 

It falls to the ground instead, and I start running. Towards the forest and the sea, diving deep without a thought. I don't feel as hungry anymore, and I can't even remember if I've ~~eaten~~ seen someone during my run. Probably. Fairly sure I've licked all that blood - all my blood - off the floor as well. Maybe I'll drown. Maybe I'll sink. Maybe I'll hit ground someday. I don't know. 

There are only two things I know: it's all Bella's fault. Hers, and the Cullen's.

And every life I take will be on their heads.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, I don't have the slightest clue where I'm going. This fic has been in my head for years, but now that I'm writing it... It's out of control. For one, it was not meant to have this almost-stream of consciousness feel to it. 
> 
> Oh well. Hopefully I'll still manage to hit the milestones I had planned on.
> 
> Enjoy !

_"Hey, Bella, do you want me to send Mom a mail to tell her the flight went without a hitch, or do it yourself ?"_  
_"I'll do it, don't bother. Though really, there isn't much to say."_  
_"Still... you know her. Even with Phil around, she'll worry if she doesn't hear from you. And hey, we did move across the country !"_  
_"I guess. I'll send something later, ok ? Don't stress yourself. You want help with dinner ?"_  
_"I'm good. Trout with steamed veggies alright with you ? I found some in a corner of the freezer. Bet you Dad forgot he had them."_  
_"Don't be mean, Anna. And sure, I guess."_

It's a respite, being underwater. I've sunk pretty fast, and now, curled up on the ocean's floor, I can think. And panic. It's terrifying, to be there, with eyes wide open that don't feel the sting of the salt and track the play of the light through the waves and the currents that move around me. It's far too strange, to be there, and to know that the burn in my throat comes from thirst and not lack of oxygen. Victoria likely had not intended to help me, but her rant while she broke me still stuck. Her reasoning, mad as it was. Her mate wanted Bella. Was ready to endanger them for Bella. Died because of Bella. 

So. A mate for a mate. Or, for lack of another option, a life for a life. A twin for a mate.

Just my luck. Even when the monster from my nightmares comes after me, it's only because it's got no other option. Just this once...

Just this once, I would have liked to be seen. To hear my name from behind clenched teeth. But no. 

Guess I really am that insignificant, in the end. Can't even die because of something _I_ did.

_"Mom ?"_  
_"Anna ? Go back to bed, it's late..."_  
_"I can't sleep... what if the monsters come back ?"_  
_"Go back to bed, sweetie, there are no monsters here."_  
_"But..."_  
_"Anna. It was just a nightmare. I promise, sweetie, you'll find it silly tomorrow. Now, give Mommy a kiss and go back to bed. You'll catch a cold."_  
_"Okay..."_

I can almost feel my memories become muddled, as I start walking. I'm not sure how long I've spent underwater, but the thirst is growing, and I start swimming as fast as I can, towards the surface and the sun. It's harder than it has any right to be, and I can feel a new wave of rage sweep through me. I don't remember much of the story I read, Before. Just a few things. Enough to know that I should not be mad at Victoria for her wanting revenge. Enough to know that Bella is supposed to get every single thing she wants. All because of the _Cullens_.

I haven't even been able to get my tattoo back. And she'll get it all. _How fair is that ?!_ I did not want this, I just wanted to get through high school and then culinary school. Have a small cafe, with books all over the place, for my customers to read with a cup of tea or a bowl of soup, with plants growing along the walls and cushions everywhere. Somewhere warm and cozy. Somewhere safe, where I could have ignored vampires and shifters and pretended I was still myself. That I had at least made one of my Before dreams come true.

What kind of vampire owns a cafe ? What kind of vampire chooses to feed people, instead of feeding from them ?

So. Bye bye dream, again, and I can't hold back a scream of frustration when my body breaks the surface and I end up nearly blind. I sparkle. _I fucking sparkle_. The book had warned me, sure (I'd like to see you try to forget something that stupid) but... seeing it is different. It's as if my skin is made from quartz. Sparkling does not describe it. Not when I can see the light play against my hand and break into a multitude of colors. I'm a fucking disco ball on acid.

What the fuck ?!

It's enough to make me sink again. Staying underwater is a good plan, right ? It's pretty down there, and if I stay somewhat close to a coast, I should not feel so much pressure that I turn into diamond or some other weird shit. Can vampires even turn into diamond ? Guess I could find out, now. And if I get hungry, I can just swim to the North Pole, grab a few seals and feed off them. Eat a scientist or a few whalers should I find any, for a change. Enjoy the darkness and crash in Siberia. Or maybe I can go high in the mountains, hide near the top of the Everest and feast on whoever gets hurt or lost. Those still exist, right ? I'm not sure. It's tempting, though. It's scary as well. How would I even get there ? How can I be sure I would not just kill everyone in sight ? 

I want my tattoo back. I want my life back. The old one. The one without vampires, the one where I only had to deal with my mental issues, and my being out of a job and almost out of money. The one where I could hide in the cradle of my mother's arms and cry, or curl around my cat and pretend I only needed him. But mostly, I want my tattoo back. I want my motto back. 

I want...

I want.

No. I need.

_Blood._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Anna finally gets a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, "chapter up by the end of the week" means "my brain will frenetically get ideas and I'll write and reread a chapter instead of sleeping." Good to know.
> 
> Warning: things are getting real, and it's getting dark, because I don't think there's a way to gloss over the fact that newborns are insanely strong and people are fragile. 
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome !

Blood.

Bella hates it, that I still remembers. The color of it, the smell of it, all of it. Her steak always cooked well-done if not over, far too tough to ever be good, but bloodless at last. I think she fainted, the first time she cut her hand while cooking. I can't wait till she becomes a vampire, just so she has to deal with it. It would be ironic if she starved because of her phobia. Cruel. But fun. I'm pretty sure it won't happen. I'm pretty sure I'm being a bitter bitch, as well.

I've always been her opposite, in that. Fascinated by blood, instead of repulsed, the kind of child who licks and picks at her wounds and studies the different tastes, who watches all the colors it can take while it coagulates. Must have been pretty disturbing to see, sometimes. My steaks were always rare. Mostly because Dad forbade blue steak and Mom just stopped buying meat. I'll give it to her, that did make meal times easier.

My life revolves around it now, to the point where it's all I can think about while I swim. I try to smell it in the air, throat raw, lips pulled back in a snarl. I need it. Now. It's painful, the lack of it, the need of it. It pulls me ever closer to the beach, where I can hear the sounds of a bonfire, the drums of percussions and the hysteria of drunk laughter. There's the smell of ashes and salt and burgers and weed in the air, and underneath, the precious tang of blood. I already know that one of them has some kind of wound, not new, but recent enough that the wrong moves brings blood to the surface the way it brings me out of the water.

I don't remember touching the sand. I don't remember a lot of things, these days. Patches of days upon days just _gone_.

I do remember grabbing one and tearing his head off in my precipitation, teeth already closed and throat moving moving moving as I gulp the blood. Then another, part of her hair torn out of her skull as I grab her by it. It's blonde, the same shade as Mom's, and I don't care because she tastes _so fucking good_ , bitter fear and sour drugs and spicy lust and pomegranates and copper and Oh Gods, I don't want it to stop, I want her blood, more of it, all of it and some more, to the point where the two kids running and screaming are unimportant. I'm fast enough to stop them, so fast that I can feel an arm pop out of its pocket as I grab one and break the other's pelvis with a kick. They're so fragile. Like paper dolls, delicious paper dolls, and I want them. I want to feast on them, to devour them. Mine. 

_"Hey, Anna, why do you hate vampire stories so much ? I mean, you won't even read books where they might appear, and you love Jules Verne !"_  
_"I just do. They can't die, and that's boring. And they're simplistic. Blood, blood, blood. What's fun about them ?"_  
_"Well... they're juste interesting ! And you can explore human nature with them."_  
_"Bull. It's like... I just really hate the concept, okay ? Can't see what's so fascinating about living corpses that refuse to die and would empty blood banks if they existed. Unless of course they're too good for bagged blood."_  
_"Stop thinking, Anna. It's romantic. The undead who needs to kill despite himself, the charm of them, the immortality... It's dreamy."_  
_"Never say that again. Please. I'd hate to have to burn your books."_

Please stop me. Somebody please stop me, before I kill them all. 

Please, don't stop me. I need it, I want it, I live for it. I'll kill them all if it means more blood.

I want to scream. 

I do scream. Arms around my torso, my blood _(corpse, victim, prey, exsanguinated already, his ribs caved in because I held too tight and I want him back, he's **mine** !!!)_ torn from my hands, red eyes in my vision to match the red of my rage. Danger ! I want out, need out, need to get back to the water ! There's a grunt behind me, more hands, holding me down, hands on my mouth to contain my screams and it almost hurts to bite it but it still won't move, and pain pain pain as my arms are ripped out of their sockets.

"Fuck. She's mad."  
"I can't believe we almost missed her. What a carnage. What kind of bloody moron just leaves a newborn alone ?"  
"Why not ask her ? Hey there, you less thirsty now ? You think you could answer some questions ?"

Three voices. Two females, one male, and accents I can't place but have to admit I like. They sound... not angry. More tired. Curious, and determined. Almost as if they don't judge me. Judge it. As if it's normal to them, or at least not so abnormal. I don't get it, and I'm in pain. I'm mad. Angry. Probably crazy as well. I don't know. I don't know if I can trust them, and I can't escape without arms, and the thirst is less strong now, even with the thick warm nice smell of blood in the air that makes me salivate. 

"I'm thirsty."

I don't know if I still want to survive. I've killed three people (four, four, he'll die soon enough) and I still want more.

I want to cry.

"Please ? I need more."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are still no arms, but a lot a questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter ! I'm proud to say I've started to untangle my timeline (finding both the official Txilight timeline and the notebook in which I had jotted some ideas before helped), so hopefully there will be a better sense of the passage of time. The fic is still Anna-focused, though I'm starting to debate whether or not I should write side-fics/side-chapters about the Forks-side of things. No promises though.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. I hope you'll enjoy the read !

I hate being a vampire. It takes a lot of place in my mind, that thought. Shares most of it with the need for blood, and somewhere in the middle is what’s left of me. There has to be. I have to still be me. But I don’t know. I lose track of time, and I forget stuff. Details. I can’t remember Mom’s voice when she was mad at someone. Can’t recall Dad’s eyes and the way they crinkled on a smile. Can’t imagine Bella’s frowny face when she had to read a book she disliked for school. Or rather, I can. But it’s fuzzy. Fuzzy enough that I’m half-sure I’m wrong. 

And now I’m thirsty again, curled up on myself and unable to grab my throat because they still haven’t given me my arms back. Can’t trust a newborn. Supposed to be half-feral. Supposed to think of blood only for at least a few months, supposed to be stronger and faster and a crazed monster desperate to sate its thirst. You don’t leave newborns alone. _Fastest way to get the Volturi’s attention_ , they say. Maybe that was Victoria's plan. Or maybe not. Can’t ask her. Still. I guess I’m lucky, that I woke up before Dad came back from his fishing trip.

I think they wanted to spend a few days at Harry Clearwater’s spot, remember him after his funeral ? And Bella... There was something about Bella. She wasn’t home either. She... left ? A note. One I threw out. I wanted her grounded. Was scared for her. Maybe. It’s all fuzzy. Need to think of something else. Like where they are taking me, my arms in the man’s arms ( _Need them, want them, can’t escape without them and fuck, can they even put me back together ? I can’t escape without my arms, can’t swim, can’t eat, will just starve at the bottom of the ocean, and fuck, I’m terrified, need them NOW_ ), my body on the tallest woman’s back. I want to bite her. Rip her head off her shoulders with my teeth, tear off her arms. Can’t. Said they’d give me my arms back once we’re in a safe place.

Liars. Nowhere’s safe. 

“Where ?”

I don’t feel like saying more. Talking is hard. Throat on fire, arms too far to grab. Can’t grab them without arms. 

“It’s not too far. We’ll get you a drink once we’re there.” The male. They haven’t given their names. I haven’t asked either. He has a nice voice. A bit raspy, strong accent, his words quick and tumbling. They’re fast, their run light and impossibly silent. And yet I can see perfectly well, as if the world had been slowed down, as if the black of the night didn’t matter. It’s abnormal and it's disturbing. 

“How long ?” I’m tired of the waiting game. I’m fucking thirsty, eyes glued to the still carotid of my carrier. I wonder if there's some leftover blood in it I could drink.

“A few more minutes. Be patient.” This voice is a somewhat hoarse contralto, one I know belongs to the female carrying me. Her red hair whips my face as she runs, brings the smell of limestone and petrichor, almost hides the smell of freshwater in the air which makes me try to raise myself higher on her back. Water. Water is safe. Water smells like water, water hides the smell of blood. Water washes everything away, water makes people forget. I like it when people forget. It keeps their attention away from me.

So much water... the lake they’re running towards is beautiful. Water as far as I can see, a few scattered islands, plants growing wild. It looks like a postcard. The moon reflects in it. The wildlife is unnaturaly silent as I hurt the bottom of a rowboat. The male and the tall female are rowing, the small one watches me. She looks young. Younger than I am. Dark curls, wide red eyes, chalk white skin and doll-like face, petite and unblinking.

She looks inhuman in her perfection. Looking around is better. There’s a ruin on the horizon, the remnants of a tower house quickly rising. It looks ancient. It looks like a picture from a book, surrounded by water the way it is, no humans around as far as I can smell. 

It looks nothing like home. But it looks almost safe with its thick and crumbling walls, and so I stay silent as we enter. Smells of old stone, of mold and dust, of wood and rust. Smell of blood, which fans the thirst even more. Biting is a reflex. The moan when I finally get to drink, not so much. The snarl as the tall female tries to take the empty blood bag away definitively is.

“Stop that. You’ll get more later.” My eyes lower to the ground on reflex. Be quiet. Be calm. Be silent. I can do that. I know how to do that. I know how to take as little place as possible. “How old are you ?”

I blink. I didn’t expect _that_ question.

“Eighteen.” There’s a laugh on my right. The small female. The male is by the other one, the one who asks questions and talks like a queen, strong and unyielding. They look amused as well. 

“I meant when were you changed.” Oh. I think...

“I think it was March 19th.”

“It’s April 6th.” Fuck. More than two weeks. “No one’s changed a newborn around here recently. We’d know. So, where are you from ?” She sounds... not nice. But firm. Confident. The kind of voice that inspires trust.

“Forks. In Washington State.” I’m fairly sure I’m no longer in the US. Maybe Greenland ? They speak english I think. “There was a vampire. She was angry. Her mate died because of my sister’s, she wanted revenge, couldn’t get close enough to her to kill her. So she got me instead.” Which is fucking bullshit. As if the Cullens would care. “I just... I ran to the ocean I guess. Pretty sure I cleaned my blood first, don’t know. I’ve been in the water since. The beach was the first time I left it. I don’t even know where the fuck I am.” I can see the small one nod when the two others look at her, and it seems to make them less tense. It’s weird. And then the male opens his mouth. Closes it just as fast after a look from the redhead. He still has my arms. Wonder why. Unless arms can crawl back to their owner ? Dunno.

“You’re in Ireland. This is Hen’s Castle, our home. I'm Siobhan. This is Liam, my mate, and this is Maggie." Names, finally. Still, I stay silent. Wait for the other shoe... "You have two choices. Either you let us teach you how to survive, or we kill you."

I... fuck. I'm scared. Can feel myself curling in on myself and leap back until I'm safe in a corner, can feel my lips pull back in a silent snarl.

"So ! What's your name ?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time making research for a chapter ! Which is likely not that extraordinary, but eh. Who cares ?
> 
> Concerning Hen's Castle: it really exists. It's located on the biggest lake in Ireland, and said to have been built in one night by a cock and a hen. There's some folklore tied to it: "Strange lights are sometimes seen flitting through it, and on some particular midnight a crowd of boats gather round it, filled with men dressed in green with red sashes. And they row about till the cock crows, when they suddenly vanish and the cries of children are heard in the air. Then the people know that there has been a death somewhere in the region, and that the Sidhe have been stealing the young mortal children, and leaving some ill-favoured brat in the cradle in place of the true child. ". It felt like a fitting location for a coven.
> 
> Forks to Ireland: Again, doable while swimming, for a vampire at least. In my mind, Anna ended up swimming from Forks to Unalaska, then entered the Bering Sea and from there the Arctic Ocean. She then swam into the Norwegian Sea, and finally ended up in Ireland. So... yeah. That's a 6757 miles swim right there, give or take.


End file.
